


Reflection

by cbooks_ (juggernaught)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggernaught/pseuds/cbooks_
Summary: Ian, his father, and brother move into a new house in a new town. The whole place reeks of old ghosts...including the marked attic where he sleeps. And especially the mirror within said attic. Myths often depict mirrors as gateways, and as he and Nai soon find out, there is a lot of strengths in myths.





	1. i. The Murder House

**“No,** it’s not a _murder house_ , as I’ve said five times already,” Mikel said with a sigh, rolling his eyes before he gave a quick glance at his oldest. Ian huffed in complaint, sinking as low into the passenger seat as the seatbelt would allow him.

“I’m just sayin’, it’s awfully shady how cheap you got the house for, picture considered— Unless, of course, the picture’s total boosh. That’s possible too,” he said pensively.

“Or _maybe_ you’re just being a total butthead as usual,” Katz said, finally glancing up from his comic book. He winced a little as the sunlight reflected from his photosensitive eyes and put on Ian’s shutter-shades.

“Oi, those are mine!”

“They _were._ ” Ian moved to beat Katz into the eighth dimension before Mikel grabbed him by his hood and pulled him back down into his seat before quickly returning his eyes to the road. For what, Ian no idea, as they had been steadily rolling down a dirt path for the last too-long.

“Jeez, you two are always fighting,” he said. “When are you going to reach some common ground?”

“The same time my sparkling career as a YouTube porn star takes off,” Ian said.

“When Selma Hayek drives my Lamborghini over to play _Call of Duty_ ,” Katz said. Ian looked back at him in disbelief.

“You know Selma Hayek? How?”

“I like telenovelas. Sue me.”

“What are you, a horny teen girl?”

“Ian, Katz,” Mikel said, fed-up with their incessant fighting. “Okay, next person who talks, you’ll be cleaning our new house from top to bottom.”

Ian slid back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest petulantly. He didn’t want to live in the murder house—he wanted to stay with his mother in Chicago, a perfectly _on-_ the-map city with people who hadn’t known each other since conception and he had his decent group of friends. On top of that, he was stuck with _Katz,_ the most infuriating twelve-year-old on the planet Earth. (Regardless if majority of people on Earth didn’t agree with the online poll, he still firmly believed it.) Katz was the epitome of annoying little brother—always stealing his stuff and breaking it, playing dumb pranks on him, interrupting conversations with his friends—and Ian was fed up.

A road sign finally whizzed passed them after ages of getting nowhere. “Azure Springs, next left,” Mikel read aloud. He put on his turn signal (for the tumbleweeds maybe, because there was not a single other car for miles) before turning left, and finally patches of grass started to show through the endless expanse of dry dirt. He looked out the window in interest as more started to grow, brown and dull at first before turning the lush green of an oasis. A wooden bridge appeared in front of them, crossing a running stream filled with jumping silver fish glinting like coins in the sunlight.

“Pretty damn cool,” he said.

“Aha! He talked first! Dad, you heard that!” Katz said.

“Dad, come on, that doesn’t count.”

“You said the next person who talked, didn’t you, Dad?” Katz said. Mikel sighed.

“Sorry, Ian, but it looks like you’ll be doing the cleaning.”

“Great,” he said sourly, sinking back into his mood. As they rolled over the slightly-weathered bridge, Ian thought he heard a voice in the distance. He stuck his head out the window—“Ian, put your head back in!”—and looked all around, but he couldn’t see the town or another person in any direction. He looked backwards as they rolled out onto smooth country road, squinting, and the air around the bridge shimmered with heat, though it was about eighty degrees out there. Mikel hauled him back into his seat before he could get a good look, but when he looked at the side mirror, everything was normal. The singing, also, had vanished.

Azure Springs, as described in the brochures Mikel had gotten for Ian and Katz, was “a small town built around an oasis, using its cool and clean water for farming, fishing, and summertime swims.” It also came with a few Polaroids—that alone described how accurate they were in the current day—which depicted wooden houses set against a green backdrop. The one picture of the lake itself was the most interesting out of all of them: it was surrounded by trees with a thin pathway heading through to the clear blue water.

The green and brown town loomed into view as Ian watched, and every villager living there was out and about to see them. Mikel slowed as he headed down the internal roads, so small they barely had two lanes, and towards the street the murder house photo was taken on. Matter of fact, the whole town had to be a murder scene, because every house looked practically the same and had to be in the same price range.

“I hope the truck’s already there,” Katz said. “I wanna get back to playing video games already.”

“For what? They rot your brain,” Ian said.

“No way! They improve your reflexes and aim.”

“Then they failed horribly at their job, because you always miss the damn toilet bowl.”

“Dad!”

“Can’t argue there, son,” Mikel said. “Your misdirection is divine.”

Katz finally chose a smart reply: nothing.

Mikel slowed as they drove along the small residential street. Ian witnessed extra evidence the house was a murder house: every other house on the block was either boarded-up or half demolished. In fact, their house was almost too conspicuous, like it was the one shady spot against the blue and green and brown. The wood was painted a blotted-out kind of grey like dirtied asphalt, making it look rotten, but the windows and gables were fresh and new. The moving van was already parked on the curb thankfully, so Ian could go pass out on his bed and at like he wasn’t living in creep city. They pulled up in the cobblestoned driveway and Katz was out of the car almost immediately, racing onto the veranda.

“This doesn’t look like the photo,” he said, pressing his hands against the wood. He was right; the photo was of a non-creepy house. Mikel turned off the car and stepped out to speak with one of the movers while Ian stayed back, staring up at the attic’s small window. Usually, in horror movies, there would be a mysterious figure standing there who would phase out as soon as they met eyes. Nothing was there, though, and he was left staring at the curtained glass for a long time until Katz called him out.

The interior was sufficiently less creepy than the exterior, at least. The main room was as big as the first floor of their old house (old house, yuck, he was going to hate saying that) and led into a plain kitchen and two bathrooms. “There’s a bedroom down that way,” Mikel said as he walked in, pointing past the kitchen. “Which you two will be sharing.”

“What?” Ian and Katz exclaimed before dry-heaving at the thought of being in synch. “I’d rather pick off my fingernails,” Katz said.

“Well, there’s only two bedrooms.” Ian debated the matter: his father’s gross snoring or Katz’s annoying insomnia. Both were super undesirable, so he came up with his own resolution.

“What about the attic? Can’t I sleep there?” Ian asked. Mikel raised his eyebrows as the movers brought in their old couch. It was the fluffy floral-printed kind which probably had been passed down the family through prankster generations.

“What attic? There isn’t one.”

“Yeah, there is, I saw it from outside.” With a bit of sleuthing he found the flight of steps next to the bathroom. Mikel and Katz followed him to the second floor, where another bedroom and smaller bathroom stood, but there was no other staircase or trapdoor, as far as he looked.

“I told you,” Mikel said with a sigh.

“No, it’s impossible,” he said, but he was already certain of his own insanity. First there was the talking, then the heat distortion, and now he was imagining an attic. He thought he’d go crazy someday, but he didn’t think it would be from a move and not Katz. “I know there’s a…” He fell against the wall with a sigh, already debating nice asylums, when he felt the wood give slightly behind his shoulder. He thought the house was finally giving out, but instead a secret door opened in the wall to reveal a rickety stairwell.

“Weird,” Katz said. Ian peeked inside, expecting spiders and bats and all sorts of nighttime crawlers, but the stairwell was, astonishingly, the newest and cleanest area in the house. He stepped inside and noticed elaborate carvings in the doorjamb which looked faintly like Greek or something similarly old.

“I didn’t see this on the tour,” Mikel said worriedly as Ian ascended the steps. They creaked and groaned but didn’t twitch while holding him up. He made it to the top, which was obscured by a trapdoor knotted with fraying rope. He fumbled with the knots in the dark, trying to feel them out, and after a minute of trial-and-error he loosened them and let them fall to the base. The trapdoor was a little sticky, but with a shove it flipped out and into the attic. “Be careful, Ian!” he said as Ian climbed into the attic.

It was smaller than the first two floors and not at all dusty, as if someone had cleaned it a few minutes ago. The beams of the ceiling were arranged in a weird pattern, forming a five-pointed star at one end and a four-pointed star at the other. He squinted a little and saw they had the same carvings as the doorjamb. He pulled the curtains away from the only window to allow more light in and he realized the window, too, was carved with the foreign language and shaped like a five-pointed star. He turned around and saw its light set on one object on the other side of the attic: a wide, frameless mirror. It was propped up against the dark wood like another person and the reflection of light was mesmerizing. Ian approached it slowly as if in a dream, his hands shaking slightly at the sight, and he was barely aware of Katz coming up behind him.

“This place is full of Russian or whatever,” he said. Ian didn’t come from his fugue, not until the toes of his sneakers were against the base of the mirror. Now that he was closer, he saw a long crack in the upper-right corner—pity. He set his palm against the glass, which was surprisingly cool, like dipping his hand in a glass of iced water. His eyes, the family’s dull shade of brown, looked almost lively with the electricity buzzing in them. His hand slid down the surface and—

“Ah!” he shouted, breaking from his fugue as he jumped back. Katz turned to him in alarm.

“What? What happened?”

“I felt… At least, I thought I felt…” He stared at his hand.

“You felt what?”

“N-Nothing, I’m going psycho.”

Katz snorted. “You’re telling me.” He lowered himself down the trapdoor. “If you want to live up here in this mess then you _are_ psycho.” Ian watched Katz disappear down the stairs before turning to the mirror again, still as shiny as before. He knew he hadn’t imagined it, though. When he moved his hand down, he felt another warmth, another _hand,_ as he was also reaching out from the other side of the mirror. Either he was going crazy, or something was seriously, _seriously_ wrong with the town already.

He hoped it was the first option. 


	2. Violet Majesty

**Nai** was trying, for the fourteenth time of the day, to hide from Mistress Abiatha, but considering his appearance, it was about as easy as hiding a shark in a basket of kittens. Still, he went deep into the recesses of the castle, all the way to the washing rooms where the maidservants cleaned Her Majesty’s robes.

“Misbehaving again, are we, Nai?” Hera said without looking up from an unfaltering stain on a corset. Nai hushed her as he descended the steps into the warm concrete room. It smelled of rosewater and other perfumes used for washing.

“Not misbehaving—it’s _creatively exercising._ ”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it now? I thought it was _all-around amusing playtime._ ”

“Ha-ha.” Nai leered at her scowl and briefly waved to the other servants before he picked up Abiatha’s boots clanging on the steps. He thought for a second before picking out the most ideal hiding spot. Mouthing a quick apology to the rotund washer, he tossed the soaked gown at her before diving into the large basin. He crouched down, hands wound around his legs, and pinched his nose to protect it from the water as Abiatha’s blurry figure passed over.

“Have any of you seen Nai?” she asked, her voice sounding weird and bubbly from underwater.

“We’ve been busy washing Her Majesty’s clothing,” Hera said innocently. “If he had come through here, we wouldn’t have noticed, aren’t I right ladies?” They murmured their agreement.

“Then I must check his bedroom again. Please excuse my interruption.” Her boots thundered back to ground level. Nai gratefully jumped from the basin with a deep breath—his _Spiro_ was not powerful—and he had two seconds to enjoy the air before a reprimanding note rang through the basement. He cleared his eyes of wet hair and saw Abiatha standing with hands on her thin hips, heavy skirts swishing around her tapping foot.

“Uh… Surprise?” He gave her a small smile and extended his dripping arms. She shook her head with a weary sigh.

“ _Ignis_ _._ ” With a wave of her slim-fingered hand, a wave of heat blasted Nai from the bottom-up, instantly drying his wear and leaving his hair in a crazy up-do. “Do try harder, Nai, otherwise it’s no fun for either of us. Now come on, you’re late for lessons.” She seized his wrist and tugged him away, pulling him up the trap and into the marbled hall of the castle.

“My magic is fine, thank you,” he said as he marched in step with her. “You’ve not seen an _Aqua_ as beautiful as mine. My _Ventus_ isn’t shabby either, if I do say so myself.”

“Magic is more than simply the elements, as you already know. At least, I hope my teachings have not been for naught.”

“Of course I know! There is illusionary magic, manipulation magic, weather magic…and…”

“ _Vacuum,_ ” she said. “Your affinity, the one thing I’d expect you _not_ to forget.”

“Though I try hard to,” he whispered. His _Vacuum_ sounded exquisite in the dusty filmy spell books, “a magic neither here nor there but born of a worthy soul,” but he had yet to learn any of the four spells allocated. On the other hand, he was an expert at sprouting pansies.

“I know you try hard. If you’d only continue to do so instead of these ridiculous excursions, perhaps you would make real progress.”

“Yes, and perhaps the King will finally swear off beer. We all’ve dreams.”

Abiatha did not dignify him a response as they reached the usual set of oaken double doors. She pushed them open to reveal the grand circular library, a spiral staircase twirling up four levels of texts spanning from the kingdom’s creation and up to the arched ceiling, where mosaics of the kingdom’s birth tapered to a fine spire point. He dragged his cloth boots over to the wooden stand, where two neat rows of wands laid, and reached for his.

“No.” Abiatha took his wrist once more. “We will be training wandless today, since you are so _advanced._ ”

“Yay,” he said blandly as he followed her to the balcony. The half-circle of wood was barred from the steep fall only by a wrought-iron fence, and beyond its reach was an endless field of green, orange, and lilac trees extending well into the powder-blue horizon. She took her place on one end of the balcony, he the other.

“We shall begin with a verbal review,” she said, clasping her hands at her corseted bosom. He let out a groan, which she pointedly ignored. “What is magic?”

“The phenomena of the unison between the energy of a living being and the energy of nature.” She nodded.

“What beings can use magic?”

“Those born with the affinity, like nobility, and those who work to attain it, such as gurus, priests, lunatics…” She smiled a little despite herself, at which Nai grinned.

“Alright, alright. You’ve already mentioned the types of magic, so list them from common to uncommon—and in our language.” He was rustier with his translations, so he had to think for a moment.

“Um… Water is most common, I think, then Wind, then _Terra_ —Earth, I mean, then Fire, Void, Illusionary, and Manipulation.”

“Explain to me the difference between the _Principa Rerum_ and the _Triumvirate._ ”

“The, ah, _Principa Rerum_ contains the four forces of nature, the elements, and are easiest to resonate because of it. On the other hand, the _Triumvirate_ is, uh, is…”

“I believe you mean to say the _Triumvirate_ are magic born from men, described only in texts and therefore harder to learn.” He flushed slightly with a small smile.

“Yes. Can we _please_ get this over with now, Mistress Abiatha?”

“Fine then.” She turned to face the northern sun, thick black curls blowing out behind her. “I want you to change the direction of the wind to northeast.”

“Al…okay.” It wouldn’t have been a challenge, had he had a wand, but manipulating energy with his fingers was a significantly harder task. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, _sensing_ the wind rather than feeling it, letting himself sway back and forth with it until he felt like they were one and the same. Then, like walking and changing directions, he shifted to the side, feeling a solid pressure build in his chest cavity before the breeze shifted.

“It took longer than expected, but excellent job.” Abiatha’s quiet praise broke through his fugue. He opened his eyes, one hand massaging the remaining ache of his chest.

“It hurts.”

“Because you’re not channeling the flow through your core—your letting it pass through your chest, which is putting your heart in danger. No matter, you’re new to this.” She was brisk as ever, soothing the ache with a simple _Sano_ spell before moving right along. “Next, you’re going to grow me a flower.”

“Okay…” He held out his right palm as if expecting a gift and focused on the contours of his alabaster skin. A single leaf poked through a crack, timid and pale green, before being joined by a twin, both sprouting up to let a tiny pink bud meet in the middle. He strained and strained but it wouldn’t blossom. “This is… This is all I can…” Her hands covered his.

“It’s alright. Don’t strain yourself, Nai, lest you let the energy overrun you.” He let the flower slowly wither away. “Put the two together and send me a leaf from out there.” She pointed towards the picturesque landscape. “Any will do.”

“Mistress, I don’t think I can…” His head was already cottony from so much magical strain, and he had to shove his hands into his trousers to hide their shaking. She didn’t notice, however, eyes on his face.

“I believe you can,” she said, causing his eyes to widen slightly.

“Really?”

“I’ve been taking care of you since before you can remember, Nai. My faith is not misplaced.”

“M…” Taking a deep breath, he shuffled over to the crest of the balcony and gripped the cold metal with all his might. He could barely see the individual leaves from his position, but he tried to feel them, and when he managed a slight touch, he shifted the wind to blow at their undersides. His loose linen shirt fluttered as a butterfly’s wings, mimicking the trees’ movements in the breeze until finally, a single leaf started its winding way up.

The practiced words of _Ventus_ slipped from his tongue as easily as his name, curving his lips and tongue beyond his notice as the leaf danced up, down, left, and right, twisting and turning with the wind to glide upwards. He wanted to glide, too, away from the stifling castle, but manipulation magic was far beyond his and Abiatha’s reach. And besides, if he couldn’t do a bit of wandless magic without feeling like he may pass out, he surely couldn’t handle the many intricacies of flight—

With a sudden heave Nai fell back from the railing and onto his behind, arms clenching his stomach tightly. He rolled onto his side and retched over the drop. Abiatha’s arms circled him and he was brought around to rest his head against her chest. “Breathe, Nai,” she urged, draping her hand against his forehead. It felt good against his feverish skin.

“I’m breathing… I’m okay…”

“This will be all for today.”

“Good…” He released a long breath and slumped against her. “Because to be perfectly honest, I don’t want to move for the rest of the day.”

“Tonight’s dinner is glazed venison served alongside quail stew—”

“Wow, I believe I’ve received a divine blessing of strength. I thank our goddess Aline for her pity on a poor, starving soul.” He braced the butts of his palms on the ground and counted to three before pushing himself up. The dizziness had almost completely subsided.

“And don’t forget,” Abiatha said as he stormed towards the dining hall, sweet deer meat on his brain, “directly after dinner is your history studies!”

 _Please, goddess Aline,_ he thought with a pitiful grimace,  _have pity on a poor, unintellectual soul._


	3. Wondrous Wishing

**“Don’t** want to paint the house.”

“That, or you can follow me to registration at your new school. It might take hours.”

“You know what? I think I might be a painter in my future. I might as well practice now.”

“Smart choice.” Mikel pointed out the paint buckets and pans and rollers stacked next to the porch. “I’ll be back before dinner,” he said as he unlocked his car. “Don’t get yourselves killed while I’m gone.”

“I dunno, Dad. Boredom slays like a murderer,” Ian said as Mikel slid into the driver’s seat, then he pulled out and headed down the street. He shook his head and glanced at Katz, who was sitting on the stoop and playing away on his 3DS. “C’mon, Katz, work time.”

“I am working,” he protested, eyes glued to the screen. “I’m working to beat the Elite Four, so you can go beat it from my face and let me finish.” Ah, nine-year-old brats were so hard to deal with. Luckily, Ian was fluent in ways of persuading them.

“For every square foot you paint, I’ll get you a piece of candy.”

“How about half a bar of chocolate?”

“A fourth of a bar, and white almond.” He knew white almond was Katz’s vice, and he saw the glint in his eyes as his ears perked in interest.

“Where are the goods?”

“You know I’m good for it.” He produced the wrapped Hershey’s from his hoodie’s pocket. Katz’s eyes bugged as he tossed his game into the grass and leapt to his feet.

“What are we waiting for, the house to paint itself? Let’s get to it!”

It was hard and hot work, but with four hands on it, the job was a little easier. And though Katz was bribed into it, eventually they settled into brotherly fun, slapping each other with white-painted handprints. After a while they had to stop as they were wasting the paint on themselves rather than the house, but by the time Mikel’s car pulled up, the first floor was done.

“Looks decent to me,” he said as he stepped out and shut the door, examining the house with a critical eye. Then he looked to the youngsters with a smirk. “The house at least—you two get a D-.”

“I’m a work of art!” Katz said.

Ian sighed. “Not even without the paint.” 

“How about you two get showered and I’ll order pizza?”

“No thanks, Pop, I got chocolate to eat.” Ian didn’t have time to brace himself before Katz was all over him, and after a moment he came up with an armful of Hershey’s bars. “But I’ll take the shower first!” Ian cut him off at the threshold and caused them to get stuck in the door together.

“You’re not getting past me! I’m the Champion of the League!”

“You can’t aim at the toilet, let alone aim for the top!”

“Says you! You have the stuttering report card, D-D-D-D-Don’t you?”

“Okay, okay, boys!” Mikel cut between them to get inside the house. “Take a shower together for all I care.”

“Ew!” they shouted in unison.

“You two used to have fun doing it, and you’d take rulers in there to—”

“Freaking gross, Dad!” Katz said while Ian fake gagged. Then, with a triumphant noise, Ian shoved Katz away and bolted inside.

“My bathroom!” he said as he ran inside and slammed the door shut. He locked it in time to catch only Katz’s protests as he turned the water on. “What is it? Can’t hear you! Speak up!”

After a while Katz went off to sulk and eat his candy, and Ian found it safe to jump into the shower. It felt good to wash the paint out and the water was hotter than he expected it to be out in the middle of Nowhere Ville. He shut the water off and stepped out to dry himself, glancing in the mirror as he did so.

“Sup, Sexy?” he said, swabbing the steam away with his palm to wink at his reflection. He burst out laughing at his own joke for a moment, then he recalled the weird mirror of his new room. “My room… Speaking of, I gotta go get clothes.” He grabbed a smaller towel to dry his hair with as he unlocked the door.

“About time,” Katz said, but it lost a lot of edge with chocolate in his mouth and on his face and shirt. Ian sneered at him as he went to the stairwell, the old wood soft beneath his bare feet as he shoved open the trapdoor and hauled himself inside.

“This isn’t a bad place,” he said to himself, hands on his hips as he surveyed the room once more. “Give it a little paint, a few posters, a jacuzzi…” Of course, it was wishful thinking—Mikel wouldn’t even let them swim in the public pool back home—but sometimes all a kid could have was dreams. He turned to the box marked ‘CLOTHES!’ with a Sharpie and started rooting through.

_“…posssssibly…”_

He snapped upright with a startled noise, his wet hair throwing droplets of water everywhere as his head whipped around the room. No one else was there, the trapdoor was untouched, but Ian didn’t imagine the hissing whisper he heard. He shifted the boxes around, searching for any stray animals—surely, the old house had a few, probably from a hex placed by the previous owner—but aside from some dust bunnies, he was the only living creature in there.

Only living creature…

“I’m crazy,” he said as he started walking towards the mirror. “Must be.” Yet he couldn’t shake the memory of a warm hand touching his own through the glass. “Crazy, freaking insane, might as well stuff the walls with cotton now…” His shaky hand rose to meet the glass once more. His eyes were wide and frightened as he looked at his reflection, but something was a little distorted about it—probably a fresh coating of dust from the vast reserves in the room.

_“…wanna ssssee…”_

His fingertips brushed the glass, which was warm to the touch, and his reflection blinked. His reflection blinked; Ian did not.

_“My reflection?”_ said the same voice, but it was clearer, now in the image of a boy Ian’s age. He spoke with a slight accent, but Ian could understand the words perfectly…though they weren’t said aloud.

“My reflection,” Ian repeated, swaying slightly, feeling like the first day he beheld the mirror. He let his hand fully rest against it once more and, as if he was dipping it into water, the glass shimmered and waved. When the image cleared again, he was staring at an inverted version of himself, with verdigris hair and brighter sea-colored eyes. His doppelganger blinked in surprise and his lips parted to speak again, but at that moment Ian pulled away in shock. As soon as he did so, his reflection reverted to normal.

“I’m crazy,” he said with a full-body shudder. “I gotta take a nap…”

He turned away, and the same hand he touched, pale and a little knobby like his own, snapped  _out_ of the mirror and latched onto Ian’s damp shoulder. He hardly worked a “Whuh-huh?” from his lips before he stumbled and fell backwards into the glass. It touched his skin for a fraction of a second before vanishing entirely, and the whole world turned dark around him.


	4. The Old Mirror

**Dinner** was often an insipidly mundane affair, and tonight was no different. Nai chewed the roasted venison thoroughly as he stared at the ornate seat at the head of the table and the plush one to its right hand, both of which being empty.

“Her and His Majesty took the dive yet again?” he asked with no real interest.

“Nai, that’s rude,” Abiatha said as she ate the messy food primly. “They’re busy maintaining all of Anais, as you already know.”

“Pfft.” He pressed his goblet of cider to his lips. “They don’t eat?” He ignored Abiatha’s scathing look as he cut his meal into eights, then twelfths, with no real interest. It tasted good—the royal cook was no slacker—but his stomach wasn’t feeling too well after the day’s lessons. _Vacuum_ was regarded as an exquisite magic beyond normal mages, but it came with the unruly side effect of making him weaker to other elements. And he still didn’t find any purpose in his stupid _Vacuum,_ magical or otherwise.

“Nai, eat,” she said, although her voice was softer. He glanced from the corner of his eye at her concerned face amidst her dark and curly hair, the face which stuck by him for as long as he could remember. She was his instructor, caretaker, and mother all in one, and as far as he was concerned, she was the only one of all three. “You stretched yourself with your magic today. If you don’t eat, you could fall ill.”

“Then maybe the King and Queen will finally show some concern towards us, huh?” he said, stabbing the fork into his meat so violently the tines bent. “Are we not the kingdom’s people too? Could they not spare an instance from their busy schedules? They had no problem with it formerly.” He had vibrant memories of the King, with his friendly old face and large hands, casting spells of wild colors bursting into gardens and woodland creatures and mini galaxies, all at Nai’s behest as he clapped and giggled gleefully. Now, he barely saw the old fart hanging around.

“Nai, please,” she said, giving a little sigh. He forced himself to finish his dinner as to be polite, and as soon as he was done he pushed away.

“I’m finished. I’ll begin my studies now.” He swept away, and his heart sunk a tad more as he failed to hear Abiatha’s steps behind him. He took a deep breath and released it in the same move, squaring his shoulders as he stepped purposefully down the marbled halls, sparing no idle glances to the great tapestries of the country Anais around him. _‘_ _Ab Uno Disce Omnes’_ —that was the motto of the country. From one, learn all. The few stories he remembered told of a man watched a leaf fall from a tree, and from it, he learned the truth of magic in the universe.

_He might’ve been an overall crackpot,_ Nai thought, _but he was on to something. Now, if only he hadn’t discovered this senseless_ Vacuum _…_

He pushed open the large doors to the castle’s library. Towering oaken bookshelves spiraled out from the mosaic in the center, the kingdom’s symbol of the legendary Gryphon, and rose to kiss the arced glass ceiling. Beyond it was a painting that changed with every generation, showing the current King and Queen. He scowled at their faces before going off to the corner where the studying tables laid.

“Stupid history,” he muttered as he took a stool to reach the higher shelves, taking a few textbooks down. He dropped them to the table with a heavy _whump_ and was nearly resigning himself to literal death by boredom before a glint caught his eye. He turned to the back wall, which was composed of several glass panels, almost all of which being dusty as the maids had yet to make their nightly rounds. They were often used for magicians to observe their form, and so as Nai stepped close, he could feel the ether radiating from them. One was positively burning with it.

“This is odd,” he said, dragging his fingers down the glass. It was sparkling clean unlike the others, and it felt like a magic wand or something, the energy signature was so strong. He moved closer until his breath misted on the glass, and his eyes looked wide and catty in his reflection.

“My reflection,” he said aloud. He pulled away, scowling to himself. “What am I doing? Abiatha will come in and berate me any moment. I should be study…” He turned back, however, and pressed his full hand to the cooling surface instead. _I haven’t cared about my studies much to begin with,_ he thought with a slight smirk, but it fell as the manna abruptly spiked. For a split second, he beheld what was surely his double, a boy resembling him in everything but color. His hair was brown, his eyes a darker shade of so, but his features, build, and all were exactly alike.

_We’re the same!_ Nai thought with breathless exhilaration. “We’re the same,” he said aloud, but as soon as he began to speak, the boy pulled away. Nai felt the manna levels abruptly drop and lunged forward against the glass, not even noticing the impact of his forehead against it. “No!” Without thinking, without speaking any spells he was aware of, Nai dove forward and thrust his arm through the glass. It rippled before allowing him through, and although he couldn’t see, he felt his hand grip a moist shoulder. It was hard, but he dug his heeled shoes into the wood and pulled.

“Augh—stubborn bastard—” He gripped his arm for support as the other’s weight proved to be a lot. He felt the magic of the mirror thrust backwards as well, as if he was moving through quicksand, but Nai’s manna rose in protest. For the first time in his life, his _Vacuum_ proved useful: it negated the magic of the mirror, causing him to fall backwards from his momentum, but now with a guest.

“Oi!” said his doppelganger as they both hit the ground. Nai couldn’t understand why _he_ was complaining— _Nai_ was the one taking his weight times two. Besides, his upper half was naked, and he was…sweating? No, it was bathwater. Either way, it was gross.

“It doesn’t feel better down here,” Nai muttered with a frown. Eventually, the other did rise, and he stared at the room, then Nai, with wide and panicked eyes. His lips moved, but his voice produced no discernable sounds. “I can’t understand you,” he said, crossing his arms. The boy ceased speaking for a moment to stare back at Nai with more confusion. Apparently, things weren’t better on his end. He finally sighed in frustration.

Nai got an idea and reached out towards him. He pulled away in horror and Nai held up his other hand in a placatory gesture. It took a while, but his double eventually calmed, and Nai laid a hand over his neck. He pressed his other hand against his own and breathed a soft spell.

_“_ _Intelligo_ _.”_

Light flashed from his hands, then he let them fall with a satisfied breath. “Now, this should be easier,” he said, testing the waters. He blinked at first, frowning a little, then pointed at Nai.

“You speak English now! How did you do that? And what was that light? Where am I? How did I get here? Can I get back? You look like me—why do you look like me? And how do I—”

Nai clapped a hand over his mouth with a frustrated noise. “Magic, magic, the palace of Anais—the library within, to be specific—through the mirror, I don’t know, _that’s what I’m wondering,_ and take a breath before you suffocate.”

He took a long breath before snapping forward into Nai’s face. It couldn’t have been more unsettling feeling his breath, staring into his own eyes, albeit a different shade. “Who are you?”

“My name is Nai. N-A-I.”

“Nai… I’m Ian. Your name is backwards.”

“ _Mine_ is backwards? Says you.”

Ian pressed on. “And why do you have my face?” 

“Says you!” Nai repeated. “What are you, an imp? This is a poor imitation, if so.”

“Who’re you callin’ an imp?” Ian suddenly reared back, arms crossed. “You pulled me here, didn’t give me time to get dressed.” Nai did notice he was woefully underdressed, yes. He was clad only in a towel around the waist. “What, were you waiting for me to jump out the shower?”

“Shower?” They could understand each other, but the vocabulary was still…dicey. “What is that?”

“Ya know, like a…” He began to gesture, then shook his hands out with a frustrated noise. “That’s not important! You still haven’t told me why you have my face!”

With a frustrated noise of his own—which sounded eerily similar, Nai noted—he raised both hands, palm out, and said, _“Manifesto!”_ A blast of light and wind ruffled Ian’s feathers, but after passing, he was still there, still a mirror image, albeit a little crosser. “So you’re the real deal,” he whispered.

“Of course!” His cheeks were red with indignation and he started gesticulating again. “And _what was that?_ ”

“Magic—I told you already.”

“So what, you’re a frigging magician?”

Nai’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “In training, actually.” Ian had the familiar facial expression which said he had a million questions, but Nai detected Abiatha’s sharp heel taps approaching the library. He leapt to his feet with a panicked expression, hauling Ian up as well. “You have to leave! Now!”

“What?” he said, but Nai was already shoving him backwards towards the mirror.

“Intruders in the castle will be punished. Your life is on the line—Ian,” he said, testing the strange name on his tongue. It didn’t matter anyway—his language spell was quickly fading, he could feel it. Perhaps Ian could too, because he touched his throat with confusion. He stopped cold in front of the glass.

“Will we—” he began, then Nai only heard his strange language once more. But Nai knew himself, and thusly, he understood Ian too. _Will we meet again?_

His answer was a shrug, then he shoved Ian backwards. As he came into the world, he disappeared back through the mirror, and as the glass ceased rippling, Abiatha appeared. Just as well, too, for after casting so many spells in quick succession, Nai pitched over, and only her quick movements saved him from cracking his skull. 


	5. Compulsory Normalcy

**Ian** tumbled from the mirror and fell to the ground he knew with a heavy _whump!_

“Ow! Jeez!” He hissed in pain as his wrist gave under the impact. _People from other worlds have absolutely no manners,_ he thought with a petulant huff, crossing his arms over his chest. Then— _I was in another world!_ He leapt to his knees and stared at his skin in awe as if it would be covered in fairy dust or something. “Cool,” he said. “I went to another world.”

A light pounding came from the underside of the trapdoor, followed by Mikel’s voice: “Ian? Did you fall?”

“Yeah, but I’m still in tip-top shape,” he called back. “You know me, Dad: built like a rock.”

Mikel’s snickers echoed through the wooden floor. “A Play-doh rock, maybe, but if your funny bone is intact, then I’ll bet the rest of you is too. Come downstairs, the pizza came while you were dozing, I guess.”

“What kind of pizza?”

“Every.”

“Don’t let Katz eat all the pepperoni again!” He grabbed random clothes from his dresser and prepared to put them on, but an odd feeling filled his chest. He was in another _world,_ yet life still went on normally there. Wasn’t something big supposed to happen, like a huge hairy giant giving Katz a rightful pig’s tail and telling him he was The Kid Who Survived? ™

Then again, Ian wasn’t complaining if he got to beef over a meat-lover’s pizza with Katz like the old days, a.k.a. pre-move. He smiled giddily as he pulled his hoodie over his head and stomped downstairs, the mirror left forgotten like the dusty corners of the attic.

He turned up at the dining table hands on hips like Superboy and declared, “I hope the largest slice was saved for me, as per usual?”

His dad and Katz were exchanging bites, the former eating cheese and the latter eating sausage, as they laughed hard enough to send chewed bits flying from their mouths. “Sure, sure, I got it right here,” Katz said as the giggles died down. “The seafood special for Ian.”

Ian cringed. “No, Katz, don’t—”

He grinned, opening his mouth and showing the salivary remains of his pizza. “Bleurgh!”

“Aw, man, he did.”

“You two are peas in a pod,” Mikel said with a laugh in his voice, then he raised his eyes to Ian and frowned a bit. “You look a little flushed. You’re alright?”

“I told you, Pops, I’m fi-i-ine,” he repeated, drawing his hand across the air for emphasis. He did feel warm, but he always did, courtesy of his year-round hoodie collection. Unless, of course, he caught some interstellar germs going through the mirror? Was it possible? “Hey, Dad, did Nobi ever get sick?” he asked as he sat at the table.

“What? Are _you_ sick? Speak English!” Ian pointedly ignored Katz.

“Ya know, going through Doraemon’s pocket dimension. Did he ever catch a cold or, like, a space cold?” Mikel sighed.

“Son, lay off the cartoons and watch a documentary for once.” 

“Like what? The mating habits of hippos? I learned my lesson once already! Anyway, pass the veggie lover’s!”

Katz snorted, picking up his next slice. “Since when do you eat veggies?” Ian grinned as he grabbed the piece and, snatching an onion off the top, flicked it at Katz. “Hey!”

“I don’t,” Ian smirked. “Eat up.”

 

 

Of course, Ian tended to have the worst luck, which meant he did feel more than a bit off as the next day drew in. He groaned, rolling over and pulling the sheets over his face. And what do you know, it was a Monday to boot. His head ached, his nose was running, and the pain in his chest was now at frightening proportions. He was about ready to call 911 on himself.

“Ian, let’s get going!” Mikel shouted. And what do you know part two, it was his first day at his new school. Maybe he’d be lucky and a flying cliché would come and sweep him away with a beautiful woman holding industrial-strength aspirin.

After a few more pitiful moments, Ian was slowly descending the stairs in his old Lakers hoodie and a pair of jeans which had seen better _decades._ Katz was in no better mood as he reached downstairs, sitting on the couch and swinging his legs (he was a short little guy) petulantly with arms crossed. “What’s his boogie?” Ian asked, pointing at him.

“He’s waiting for a, quote, ‘beautiful woman holding a PlayStation 4 to sweep him away,’” Mikel said. “And speaking of boogies, you have a waterfall of them. You know you can stay home if you don’t feel well?”

“I’ll live,” Ian said. “C’mon, Katz, let’s go face the world, wimpy kid style.”

“ _You_ may be a wimp, but don’t lump me in with you,” Katz said, getting up and tossing his hair over his shoulder. “C’mon, Pops, Idiot Bro, let’s roll.”

Mikel snickered, opening the door for him. “Right this way, Sir.” Katz stuck his tongue out at both as he headed to the car. “Last call, Ian,” Mikel said seriously once he’d worked off the joke.

“What, and miss the first day of tort—school?” He snorted. “Dad, c’mon, I’d be throwing up in the morning and you’d still ship me off by noon on a normal day.”

“Yes, but right now, you have extenuating circumstances. I want you to be comfortable, both of you,” he said, resting a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Which is why I let you two be brattier than usual and get away with it. So, if you want to pitch a fit and cry and scream and anything, you can.”

“Dad, please, you’re making me sicker with your unmanly emotions. Please, let me go to school. See? I got ten times sicker having to say that aloud. If you’re lucky, you might have me in the E.R. by noon.” Mikel conceded, allowing Ian past.

“Keep it in mind, okay?” 

“Will do, Father.”

 

 

Compared to the rest of the town, the school was more of a three-trick pony, or at least a thoroughbred donkey. The building had three stories—count ‘em, _three_ —and, as the vice principal toured them across the grounds, Katz and Ian saw a basketball court, a lake/swimming pool in the back, and a little field for soccer. Then they had to split and disown one another, being under and upperclassmen.

Ian’s first class was Algebra 1, which he normally could glide through with immaculate Cs, but his pounding head made it hard to focus on formulas. The teacher was vibrating on one frequency and Ian’s skull was vibrating on the much rarer tone of elephants stampeding with jackhammers. The drooling crowd of eighth graders could care less about New Guy™, and since Ian could do without the extra pain, he left them alone as well.

By lunchtime, he was feeling a bit better—well, if _better_ meant he was lightheaded instead of heavy-headed. He found Katz since the grades mixed, and although Katz put on his usual holier-than-thou presentation to a less-than-adoring crowd, he did do a double-take as he glanced at Ian. “Dude, you look like roadkill on drugs.”

“You’re poetic. Do they have meatloaf surprise or something?”

“Tomato soup and bread, but you’re scaring me. Did you look in a mirror? You have this weird bruise right here.” He pointed at a spot below his hairline. Ian mirrored the movement and found the area to be a bit warmer than surrounding skin.

“Okay, I’ll bite, but…food first. Please.” They went in line and found, unlike the previous school, it was buffet-style, but also unlike the previous school, the lunch ladies couldn’t have cared less about the rowdy students fighting over the last pudding cup and cinnamon roll. Lucky for the brothers, then, Ian was allergic to most sweets and Katz was banned from sugar after a certain Red Bull incident neither liked to revisit, and they made out like bandits with trays of lunch.

“So,” Ian said as they sat in the corner of the lunchroom near a motivational cat poster. Yes, for some unholy reason, they still existed. “Are we ready to bail or what?”

“What?” He snorted in disbelief, breaking his bread into chunks. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a pariah here!”

“I’d say you used the wrong word, Mr. Dictionary, but hey, you probably are.” He smirked as he unwrapped the straw for his orange juice. “Fifth grade superiority, man. They think they know it all.”

“Well, this fifth grader can make pancakes, so eat it!”

“I never eat them and neither does Dad! Who’d want to eat those black bricks? It’d be like building a house in my small intestine. Although, on second thought, that sounds pretty fun.”

Katz rolled his eyes and collected his tray as he stood. “Can’t believe we’re related,” he said with a shake of his head as he wandered off. Ian let out a breath as he finished his soup, then he found himself staring at the metal meal tray’s smooth surface.

_Hey, maybe I could…?_

He cleared the dishes and utensils from it before holding it up to his face. He could see his reflection clearly, including the weird bruise Katz mentioned. It looked like a mud spot, but wouldn’t rub off no matter how much spit he applied, although it didn’t cause him any pain to touch. _Well, whatever, it’ll fade on its own anyway,_ he thought, peering harder at his face. Then, slowly, he took his fingers from his forehead and rested them against the metal sheet.

Warmth. 


	6. Troublesome Echoes

**Abiatha’s** cool hand upon his feverish forehead woke him from his daze. Nai squinted, then he blinked into her teal eyes, which were bright with concern.

“Are you lucid now?” she said softly, reaching away before bringing a glass teapot filled with an amber liquid to his lips. He drank greedily until a pleasant numbness filled his brain to dull the swollen ache inside his skull and a warmth built in his aching chest. “You’d been muttering nonsense the last few hours.”

“That so?” he whispered, his throat feeling parched despite the drink. “Mm…what happened?”

“I found you in the library, and not two seconds later you were out cold. I’ve been trying to revive you since. Were you cursed?”

“I’m not aware of being…” _What was I doing in the library? Surely not_ reading, _of all things. I remember seeing my face, but it wasn’t quite my face…_ “What was I saying earlier?”

“I’m not sure at all. It sounded like an unfamiliar tongue, but I could at least recognize any language upon this world.”

“Well, you know about as well as I do— _cough, cough_ —I’m the least reliable in Foreign Languages of all the subjects you so graciously teach me, so I don’t know where I’d learn a—”

_The mirror. The hand. The boy—Ian. Brown hair, brown eyes,_ my _face._

“Nai!” Abiatha’s eyes widened and her face paled as he was on his feet. He blinked, momentarily as stunned as her, then took a step forward—only to slam onto his face. “I told you already, you’re feverish.” She helped him up until he could sit on the edge of his bed. “I know you’re used to jumping into action all the time, but right now it puts you at risk for a concussion.” He gasped, clasping his bruised forehead.

“I don’t—care. Listen, Abiatha, that mirror, that mirror in the library, it leads to another _world!_ I met a boy through there who calls himself Ian, and…and…”

“You’re certain?” Suddenly her eyes were brighter, this time with fear. “Nai?”

“I may scratch the truth a bit, but I never lie like this. Yes, I’m certain!”

“Then things are worse than I imagined.” She took his hands in hers and said with ashen features, “You’ve been cursed, Nai.”

“Of course I’ve been—what? Cursed? How?”

“Through the mirror. Come here, Nai.” He shifted closer until he rested in her side, and she held her hand out between them. Wisps of violet magic surged from her palm and took the shape of the mirror. “This mirror was created by Undine Ybor many decades ago to entrap the souls of his enemies. The curse stays to this day, and by looking in it, you’ve…”

“But my soul isn’t gone. I can still use magic.” He held out his hand and created a tiny flame in the center. “See?”

“For now,” Abiatha said softly. “It will be a long and painful removal process, however.”

“Bah, you’re not making any sense. The mirror doesn’t entrap souls, it pulls them into other worlds. Actually, I wonder if it could take me over to Ian’s side…” He stood up and immediately fell back onto his behind. He clapped a hand to his forehead and was suddenly aware of a weird shape in the corner of it, like a second bruise. “Oh. Wow. I might be a little unbalanced.” She visibly refrained from rolling her eyes.

“Perhaps.” She guided his shoulders until he was laying down once more. “Then, while you’re temporarily bedridden and unable to escape my advances, your studies continue here.”

_Mirror, take my soul now,_ he thought with a groan.

 

 

By the time his illness passed, he had enough magic theory and etiquette stuck in his head he feared he’d need a professional magician to wash his skull clean of the gunk.

He waited until the castle had gone to sleep and the guards were changing shifts before he crept from bed with a will-o’-wisp serving as his illumination through the dark halls. His neck itched with the sensation of being watched, but his detection magic brought up no results—then again, he was still pretty novice with magics outside of his own classification.

He pushed open the doors to the library and made sure he wasn’t followed before shutting them once more. The glass ceiling let in oddly-shaped rays of moonlight over the textured wooden floor below, and the bookshelves casted odder shadows across the rugs and carpeting. He swallowed and shook his head as he crept towards the mirror once more.

_That other world where Ian lives, I wonder what it’s like? There’s no magic there, judging by his reaction, but I want to see…_

Nai’s head exploded in white noise. He stumbled backwards in shock—and right into something large and warm. A bestial growl filled his ears seconds before he was yanked up by the collar of his nightshirt and flung across the ground. He slammed into a table and upended a chair with his momentum.

“What the—?” Nai clasped his fingers over his forehead and detected a growing sensation of wetness below his hairline. Beside him was a shattered chair leg streaked with his own blood. He blinked past it and into the center of the library, where a hulking silhouette stood beyond the reach of the moonlight. He could figure, however, it wasn’t human, more like a cross between a drake and bear. There was still a question to be had, however: How did it break past the castle’s defenses? The guards were a little slow at times, but something like _that_ was surely hard to miss!

He slowly pushed himself to unsteady feet. The beast snuffled and snarled, shifting into an attacking stance. Nai held out his bloodied hand, eyes shining in the darkness. “Do your worst to me then, foul creature! I’ll tell you what, you shan’t ever see a magician of my caliber elsewhe— _Ventus! Ventus_ _!_ ” he shouted as the thing advanced.

A powerful gust of wind surged from his palm and into the monster. It did nothing but stall the beast for but a moment, then it pushed forward yet again, slower if anything. Gritting his teeth and setting his feet, Nai put up his other hand and twined his thumbs together, using nearly all his manna.

“ _Turbo!_ ”

Hurricane gales formed between his fingers and swirled forth, snatching books and chairs in its path and swinging them mercilessly in its dance. The beast took one lumbering step, then another, then it was lifted from its feet, and with a resounding whine it went spinning upwards before slamming bodily into the skylight. Nai let the winds gradually die away before listing to the side, barely catching himself against a nearby shelf.

He moaned, pressing his palm into his forehead. “Sick…” Blood had already marred the vision of his left eye, giving everything a reddish hue on one side, and beneath, he could feel the heat and stickiness of perspiration radiating from his skin. Aside from that, he exhausted his manna supply with one spell. Recovering it would take near an hour, and as he could see, the beast would recover in a mere fraction of the time.

The beast hit the floor heavily, causing Nai to lose his footing for a moment, then it lashed out with a resounding growl. There was a flash of silver he avoided thanks to his combat training, which he thankfully took much more seriously than his text studies, but it proved to be a quicker opponent in anger, and another extremity shot forward and knocked Nai from his feet. His shoulder hit the ground hard, and his raised arm was seized in a vise grip.

“Augh!” he shouted as he was lifted from the ground and brought face to face with the creature. It had a skeleton like a human’s minus one arm, but grossly inflated and with skin pulled so tautly it was a glossy greyish-black shade, and from that face protruded a jaw full of jagged teeth and three bloodshot eyes. Its foul breath fanned Nai as it eyed him, then he was quickly brought closer to the cavernous mouth. He gasped, struggling, but its hand was the size of his entire arm and with the grip of a drake. “No, no, no—”

_I’m not going to die here! I’m not!_ he screamed within the confines of his mind while his outer limbs locked up on him in the face of imminent death. _I’m going to die from Abiatha’s lessons. Compared to them, this creature is much less…much less…_

_Think, Nai, of every spell you know._

_—but I need manna to perform spells. I can’t work around that._

He could see the ridges and suckers on its tongue now, and its saliva was pooling over his bare feet.

_I’m going to try!_

He pressed his right hand on the thing’s snubbed nose, fighting back the urge to shudder in contact with its gristly membrane. Something bottomed out in his belly from the contact, and not just the remnants of his dinner. He went cross-eyed for a moment, then his bearings returned to him in a flash, followed by a spell he could suddenly read as if from his eyelids:

“ _Release!_ ” he shouted, and it occurred to him, it was the language Ian spoke, although he personally had no understanding of the word or what it meant. He felt manna churn where there previously was none, and air gathered in the center of his palm…only to dissipate.

A new current ripped between Nai and the creature. They were both sent in two different directions, Nai to the hard ground and the thing going shooting through the air like an arrow—no, _faster_. Nai blinked and it was already embedded within the thick wall close to the ceiling, the tapestries next to it still as stones. _So, no wind. It moved so fast but didn’t generate wind…? I’m not a genius, but I know that shouldn’t be possible, unless it moved so fast it didn’t…_

Cracks exploded from the point of impact, not only yanking the tapestries’ supports free but also spinning up towards the ceiling and breaking the foundation of the skylight. There was a piercing screeching noise which preceded a fine spray of glass, and Nai scrambled under a table to avoid the debris as it fell to the ground and shattered. He saw the beast hadn’t moved, firmly embedded into the wall, and let out a relieved breath, which was all the encouragement his body needed to finally give out.

He looked at his feet and saw a large shard of glass laying there. His arm was bruised and marred with the occasional sting of pain from its grip, but he managed to hold out a shaky hand and rest it against the surface. Within the reflection, his face was ashy and sweaty, and his drying blood matted his fringe to his forehead. He still did notice the odd bruise above his temple.

“Being a magician is hard.” He sighed, resting his warm cheek on the cool surface. “This feels nice…”

He didn’t notice the monster dissolving away. 


	7. End of the Road

**Ian** tried to roll with the history teacher’s lessons, but it became impossible after a while. He then tried busying himself looking through the window, but watching the parking lot wasn’t much more interesting. Finally, he overcame his wallflower syndrome and raised his hand.

“Yes…sir?” she said, apparently coming up short on his name.

“Ian, but I do like the _sir_ part. Anyway, as you can tell, I’m pretty knew to this place,” he said, spreading his hands, “so when you mention Azure Springs’ background, I’m damn clueless.”

He didn’t particularly care for the small-time town’s small-time backstory, but he welcomed anything that could cram his mind full and push the rest of his thoughts away. The fleeting warmth he felt through the cafeteria tray, but no sign of Nai, and the odd bruise was already starting to fade. He wanted, if for a moment, to think only of _his_ world—ah, he had never thought of the Earth as one of a bunch of worlds, but hey, the greatest minds used to think it was square. Mistakes could be made, and new information was always to be found.

“Oh, well, sure. The town was established two hundred and fifty years ago under the premise of an attraction. You see, the town was once reputed to have an air of mystery like the Bermuda Triangle: phenomena would often occur within its boundaries, inexplicable by science at the time, and people would come from all around to witness it. Today, though, there’s nothing here extraordinary enough to warrant that sort of attention.”

_Shows what you know,_ he thought with a private smile. _Ow._

“Azure Springs has become a quiet family town and a popular retirement destination.”

“Um, question: What about those boarded-up houses on Crescent Street?” A.k.a. the street that he and the others currently lived on. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what happened on that street, especially if it was a murder scene, but better to be in-the-know than oblivious.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just a very old section of the city compared to the rest and a bit structurally unsound. They’re going to start repairs by the end of the month to up real estate.”

“Okay then, sorry for halting the lesson.” She continued with a list of the town’s mayors while Ian stared blankly at his open notebook, slowly setting down his pen. _But Dad had the house checked, and he has the papers from the carpenter to prove it. Not that I think the teacher’s lying and all, but…this is all just weird and shady._

Thirty minutes before the bell, his weird flu symptoms returned, and though he hated to do it, he excused himself to the nurse. She checked his temperature and, after proclaiming it was one hundred and one, said she would call his father to pick him up.

“Yeah, I kinda figured you would,” he sulked, gripping his knees hard. It was Mikel’s first day at his new job—accountant for the mayor! They moved up in life—and Ian didn’t want him to come running and ruin his first impression, because his father would do anything to be _doting father/mother_ combo, including skipping on the day and next day’s work.

Mikel showed up eight minutes later already with a disgruntled Katz in tow. “You still alive?” Katz grumbled, looking over Ian. Ian just shook his head.

“No comebacks? You must really be sick.” Mikel stepped forward to rest his hand against Ian’s forehead briefly, then grabbed the top of his head, gently turning his head to the side. “Where did this bruise come from?” Ian grabbed the sleeves of his plaid button-down.

“Dad, I said ‘m fine, didn’t I…?” he tried, even as he slumped forward into Mikel’s chest and couldn’t hold up his body weight. “But ‘m so _tired._ ”

“Does he need a hospital?” Mikel asked the nurse with his brows knitted in concern.

“If he gets any worse, he will, but as for now, he needs rest.”

“Can I finish school?” Ian protested, tugging Mikel’s tie. Of course, that only made his father even more concerned.

“Come on, Katz, we’re leaving.”

“I just made friends!” Katz said, but he was casting several glances at Ian.

“I’ll go to the bathroom first,” Ian insisted, pushing away and rising to his feet. He stumbled for a second before regaining his balance and making his way to the small restroom, slamming the door shut. He went to splash cold water on his burning face, then a chill ran down his spine. He looked around wildly before remembering he was alone in a bathroom.

_Man, I’m getting more and more paranoid every second…_

The chill persisted, growing into a cold sweat and upping his heart rate. He looked around again, finding nothing out of place with the toilet or paper towels, then his eyes slowly landed on the mirror. The greyish surface was fogged over, and insanity or not, he was certain that whatever was wrong, _that_ was the source.

“Um…Nai? That you?” he asked, leaning forward to try to peer through the gloom. “Hey? Hey—”

Something changed in the air around him, making his ears pop, then something black shot from the mirror and latched onto his neck. He had a second to make it out as a leathery human hand before he was yanked forward with his cheek slamming into the glass. He was pulled even harder as the hand tried to bring him through the mirror, and Ian gripped the sink to give himself leverage as he pulled back. Neither made headway for a few moments, then the grappling match shifted in the other’s favor.

“Augh!” Ian shouted in pain as he was brought against the glass again. He lost his grip on the sink and automatically pushed against the glass, and to his shock his hand sunk through. It felt like being submerged in ice-cold tar, and he couldn’t pull free. Those long knobby fingers tightened around his neck until stars and stripes exploded in his vision. He blinked away the black spots and became aware of his face pushing furiously against the glass. The pressure declined until he began inching forward.

_No—no! I’ll get stuck! It’ll kill me! I’m not **going to die here! I’m not!**_

His eyes widened as Nai’s voice echoed alongside his. Strength flooded his limbs, and he braced his remaining hand against the wall and pushed, pushed as hard as he could. His back hurt and his neck felt like it’d be ripped out like a Jenga piece, but if he stopped trying, he’d be killed.

He gave one last tug and the hand released its grip. Ian fell and his back crashed into the door. The hand dissolved into black mist and the mirror cleared up right after. He gasped, rubbing his aching neck. “What in the hell was _that?_ ” He was more than a little surprised that his dad hadn’t come barging in, then it occurred to him that maybe, what had happened was magical in nature.

_Then it_ would _be tied to Nai and his world! Then maybe, since we’re…we’re_ very alike _—not the same, that’s not been confirmed yet, we just look really alike, yeah—because of that, maybe that thing will go after him too?_

He couldn’t bring himself to truly be concerned. Nai was a magician, as he said—he must’ve known hundreds of spells. But he couldn’t completely squash his worries, because Nai and him were so much alike, and Ian feared for his life just as much as his own.

When he opened the bathroom door, as composed as he could be, nothing had changed. “That was quick,” Mikel commented.

“How long was I inside?”

“Less than a minute. Let’s go, Ian, Katz.”

_Less than a minute,_ he thought, following behind his dad.  _And they didn’t hear anything. It’s magic for certain. Question is, Why is something magical chasing after_ me?


	8. What It Means

Nai couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he sat with his back to the bed’s headboard, watching Mistress Abiatha pace at the foot of the bed. It was a laugh born of mad relief, because he was certain he would’ve bled out and died had nobody found him in time. But the library’s attendant had miraculously showed to replace some forgotten books and her surprised scream brought further attention to his battered form. Now, he was propped up with itchy plaster stuck to his forehead and waiting for the definite tirade.

“This wasn’t my fault, as you can see. A monster showed unprecedented, also effortlessly passing the castle’s wards and far above my magical training.” He was glad for adrenaline, the strongest magic around, otherwise he would’ve already burst into tears from the shock.

“I never once said I’m blaming you, have I?” she replied without missing a beat, finally coming to a stop at his armoire. The doors were ajar to show two rows of neatly packed and ironed clothing with his fancy shoes on a shelf below. “Although you do seem to have a penchant for attracting the worst of luck…”

“I’m charming that way. But, err, what are you all doing about that monster?”

“As of now, there’s no creature to investigate.”

“H-Huh?” He finally lost some composure as she turned to him with grave eyes.

“The foreign magic is highly evident in the library, as are the battle’s marks, but the corpse is nowhere to be found. It was either taken or disintegrated, but considering the strength and location, it was surely planted here on purpose. Whether you were its exact target is left to be found.”

“What? Then…” His hands shook slightly and he gripped his bare knees to still them. “I, uh— Then, what are you all doing to find it?”

“Everything within our power,” she said gravely. “His and Her Majesty and I will not allow that thing to be successful in claiming your life.” A warmth blossomed in his chest to overtake the cold grip around his heart.

“Really? Although you do worse to me daily, history lessons and all. But, ah, t…thanks for the concern,” he mumbled, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I am your mistress, after all—it is always my concern to look after you.” She straightened and folded her hands behind her back, back to her professional and un-motherly persona. “Anyhow, it’s been decided by His and Her Majesty that you be under watch the next few days.”

“It makes sense this is the one thing they’ll attend to concerning me,” he muttered. “And what? Under watch?”

“Yes, watch, unless you wish to truly die the next time?” she said with a hard edge to her voice. “Until we can discover who sent that beast after you and why, you’re under watch, and that’s final. It’s not as if you’re going anywhere quickly in your state.”

“Okay, fine,” he said with a heavy sigh. She suddenly smiled with an unfamiliar mischievous glint to her eye.

“And of course, until you’re well, it only seems fair that I give you time to rest—that means no lessons whatsoever.”

“No lessons?” he repeated before raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Goddess Aline, you do exist!”

“But you still must practice,” she added, her brows furrowing a bit. She tapped her chest and said, “Since you’re still under the effects from the mirror, I believe.”

“That stupid mirror again? Haven’t I told you I’m fine? Well, as fine as I can be in this condition,” he said with a shrug, poking at the plaster. She swatted his hand away.

“If you bother it too much, it won’t heal. And what, do you believe the monster’s attack was unprecedented? The only way any sort of creature could bypass the castle’s defensive charms is through a preexisting path, and the only one in existence is that mirror.”

“Then why haven’t you destroyed it?”

“It can’t be destroyed unless by a magician as strong as the creator. That’s how curses work, Nai—I’d thought you would have recalled that much from our lessons.” The subtle acid in her tone caused him to shrink into himself. “But we’ll figure this out, both of the problems.”

“What if…it’s too late?” he whispered, even though the words pained him to say.

“It won’t be,” she said. “And that’s for certain.”

He teared up, not because her words filled him with optimism—the opposite, in fact: he dreaded to know what would happen if they _didn’t_ succeed. She moved closer and rested her palm against his cheek, her touch soft and cool and comforting. She muttered a few sentences to herself before glancing up at Nai with a measured expression.

“I should leave you to rest. I’ll check on you later.”

“Um,” he began, but she was already closing the door behind her. He sighed and readjusted his pillows so he could lie down, staring at the framework of support beams crisscrossing his ceiling. His room, while not very large, was shrunken further by the bookshelves crowded into the space not occupied by his bed.

His room had been his room for as long as he could remember, that out of the way spot within the castle. One upon a time, the floor was filled with children’s toys and magician’s practice, like the tops—oh, those tops were nostalgic. Making them spin with his magic as long as he could and having Mistress Abiatha document his time so he could beam and show off when he spun it longer the next day…

_And I finally learned a new spell today,_ he thought. _Not just generic_ Ventus _or_ Aqua _, but a spell for my own magic that nobody else in the castle has, not even the King and Queen! And…it’s in another language, one that exists in another_ world. __

Most of all, he wanted to see Ian again. He had questions, first and foremost, but there was just a need to see him again. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they looked nearly identical. He wanted to go investigate in the library, but it was halfway-wrecked, and it wouldn’t do him good to disobey Abiatha—he was old enough to know better.

The quote-unquote cursed mirror, the state of his soul, his magic, Ian… All his worries crashed inside his skull like waves and brought up a torrent of noise in his ears. He pressed his palms into his temples and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his brain to calm. He was feverish enough without so many concerns to occupy valuable space.

“Ian,” he mumbled into the sheets. “Things started to go awry…when I met Ian. The boy with my face, my voice, but not of my world. What…does lie beyond the mirror?” He sighed in exhaustion and fell into a maze of disjointed dreams.

As he awakened, Nai sensed it was nighttime, although his windows were still curtained. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and got to his feet, silently whooping with joy that he didn’t face-plant this time, and moved into the hall to steer towards the kitchen. He made the trip and was returning to his room, glass of water in hand, when something drew him towards the library. Bookshelves were still downed and the place was a general mess, plus the mirror was bound by several charm scripts, but he focused on a certain burnt spot on the carpet.

Nai came to a stop a few feet away, feeling the dark magic itch his skin even from that distance. He could also see the destroyed table and streak of blood from where he was tossed, and his wound ached in response. He dragged his eyes from the scene and realized there was something else trying to catch his eye. He followed the sensation to a section of the archives he’d never gone to before, where the shelves had barely five books each. He set his glass down and his hand automatically reached out towards one leather-bound journal.

“ _Inexplicable Magical Phenomena,_ ” he read off the cover. He flipped the book open and found pages of ridiculous spiel, like three-headed bears and drakes that lived in sea caves and a previous King who claimed to have an imp stuck in his head. He found the thing refreshingly amusing after all he’d been through the previous day—that is, until he reached the final segment of the thin book.

_Doppelgangers: There exists one with your face, your voice, your attitude and countenance entirely, in a world like our own. Long ago, a sorceress peering through her spyglass saw hers, and within days she was found dead. There were two similar instances, one with an Oracle and another with a witch-in-training, and from that, I gleaned these facts following: a doppelganger has your face and exists in a world parallel to ours. If you two should meet, it spells death._

“Death?” he said aloud, shutting the book. “That’s ridiculous. That’s…”

_As ridiculous as a cursed mirror and a monster seeking out only me? What do those mean if not “death?”_

His blood ran cold and a shiver raced up his spine. “Oh, oh no.” The book fell from his hands, and when he bent to retrieve it, he saw his hands were shaking. He pressed them into his sides and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his fear away. “I’m not going to die. I’m not. I already cheated death once, I’ll do it again. I’ll be _fine._ ” But he wasn’t, and that much was obvious. He snatched the journal and moved to his feet, feeling sick to his stomach, and walked towards the mirror. “I have to warn Ian. If he dies because of me…”

He reached towards the mirror but didn’t make it within three feet before the charms glowed and pushed him backwards, almost making him fall. He tried to make out the runes from where he stood but he wasn’t exactly the best when it came to Mistress Abiatha’s lessons. He could take it up with her…but she didn’t even believe him the first time, so she had no reason to believe him now. Nai knew he had to get the message to Ian somehow, but his only way of communication was completely sealed off.

“—for now,” he muttered, stepping backwards. “I have to relent for now and get back to my room, but I can study the journal there. Maybe I’ll find something out. Hopefully.” He turned towards the door and couldn’t help thinking, _And maybe Abiatha and the King will resolve this curse. And maybe the monster won’t reappear. There are a lot of new probabilities floating around my life now. And if the mirror’s the cause of it all, I also must find out as much as I can about it._

Nai snorted and shook his head. _I have about three death sentences on my head and now, of all times, I’m focusing on studying. This is the most amazing phenomenon yet._


	9. Endless

  


**Three** days passed in such a way Nai couldn’t lay claim to happening previously. He spent his allocated resting time reading, then dutifully trained with Mistress Abiatha without a word of complaint (at which she claimed him to be an imp and he had a private laugh to himself after) and then spent his independent studies with several books on unexplained phenomena. After three days, nearly everyone in the castle was looking at him as if he was an imp.

“Nai, it’s time for dinner.” Abiatha’s voice startled his attention from the book that laid open on his desk. He realized he hadn’t been reading it, rather staring at the pages and getting lost in his mind.

“Okay, as soon as I finish these last few pages.”

“Nai,” she said after a moment, pulling his eyes to her. She was leaning against his doorframe with crossed arms and a pensive expression. “You’ve really been working hard on your studies lately…”

“Yes? I thought that’s what you want?” He raised a curious eyebrow while trying his hardest not to grin. “Am I not supposed to be the very best that I can be, magically and mentally?”

Abiatha smiled for a moment before scowling. “Now I’m sure of it: You’re up to something, Nai. I want to know what.”

“Me, up to something? I’m appalled.”

“Don’t force me to bring the truth from you. I have methods in doing so.” Oh, how he loathed her _methods._ He wished he could get off with corporal punishment, but that was _too easy_ in her eyes.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say. I’m here with a book in my face—what tricks can I possibly be hiding this way?”

“I know how cunning you can be when you so choose.”

“Is that…a compliment? I’ll take it as such.” He marked the book with a stone weight before rising from his seat, stretching the kinks from his back. “Alright, I’m ready.”

As they walked towards the dining hall, he was dimly aware of her speaking to him, but he was lost in his thoughts again. As much as he’d been reading and researching, he made nearly zero headway in his—their—problem. The only notable fact he discovered was a period of up to eight weeks before death, which at least assured him he had time to arrange his final affairs, should he fail. He did find that Undine Ybor was trapped in the mirror as well, but that only set forth a new round of issues, such as if his problems were exclusively because of him or the doppelganger thing or an amalgamation.

Doppelgangers… The idea that someone existed somewhere out there with your face, and should you meet them, death would be imminent. It wasn’t like any curse he ever heard of before; in fact, it was almost an alien concept entirely. Living in the castle his whole life, he heard of such dangers but found them as abstract and distant as the sun and moon. He learned magic because he wanted to, not because he expected needing the defense.

_Stupid. Stupid!_ he thought, digging his knuckles into his temples and growling to himself. _This is a world full of dangerous beasts, drakes and wyverns and serpents and all! You didn’t honestly expect to be catered to and coddled your entire life, did you? So stupid!_ Then again, he didn’t anticipate his emergence into the real world to be with a due date above his head. There was no easy way into this or through this, only an ultimatum: If he didn’t figure things out, he would die.

_So…whether it’s the mirror’s fault or it’s my fault or not, I still lose my life. This is…_

“Nai.”

“Abi— Mistress. Mistress Abiatha, I apologize,” he said as he realized she stopped walking. When he looked up, however, she wasn’t angry, only concerned. “Nothing is wrong, I promise.”

“Nai, you know how I feel about lies.”

“I…If it was something I couldn’t handle, I would…” He had no idea why he was keeping it secret. Maybe he was just that senseless, or maybe he felt the problem lay only between him and Ian. “…I would tell you. That’s the truth.”

She hesitated, then leaned forward, taking his cheeks in her hands and pulling his head to hers. “I hope you will,” she whispered. “Because I know a lot of scary things have been happening to you lately, and repressing your feelings won’t do you any good.”

“I have no such feelings to repress. As you know, I tend to wear everything on my sleeve.” He rolled up the sleeves of his red linen button-down self-consciously. “And if there’s anyone that should be able to read my mind, it’s you, Mistress Abiatha.”

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking unless you bring me in,” she protested. “I hate seeing you upset.”

“I’m not upset!”

“Then alright.” She released him and spun around, resuming their walk. He felt oddly bereft as he followed behind her, and he started a little when she added, “I’m not saying this to be a bother, Nai. But even without being your guardian, it’s easy to see that you haven’t smiled once within the last three days.”

_I haven’t?_ he thought, touching his face. _If she’s noticed, then the King and Queen are bound to as well. I must pull myself together. I must…_

He almost felt feverish again as his brain slogged along while he went through routine motions. He entered the dining room, bowed respectfully to the waiting chef and maidservants, and took his seat at the end of the table. He waited until Mistress Abiatha was seated and said grace before uncovering the meal—tomato and mushroom soup, his favorite. It was when he saw that Abiatha had steak instead that his heart started racing. _Only one person in the castle would make this soup just for me._

The dining room’s doors opened again. Nai and Abiatha rose to their feet as the maidservants and chef bowed for the Queen’s entrance. She looked beautiful as always, with her long wavy hair pinned away from her small face and her blue eyes full of love and affection. Her dark blue dress matched their shade almost perfectly. Everyone waited until she was seated at the front of the table before relaxing.

“Your Highness, I, uh—” Nai swallowed, staring at the cream swirls in his soup, before looking up to meet her eyes. “T…Thank you for the soup, Your Highness. I really do appreciate it.”

She gave him a soft and easy smile, one that was nearly painfully nostalgic.

_“It’s okay, dear boy, it’s only a little scratch.”_

_“Dear boy, they’re only dreams. You’re awake now, and we won’t let anything hurt you.”_

_“Here, dear boy, this is something my mother used to make for me when I was a little girl. It’s tomato and mushroom soup. You like it, don’t you? Then I’ll make it for you whenever I can.”_

“You’re always welcome, my dear boy,” she said, and he made a conscious effort not to melt into a puddle. (It happened before; wasn’t pretty.)

“Your Majesty, I thank you so much for taking time to eat with us,” Mistress Abiatha said. She was always the epitome of cool and composed no matter the circumstances. Meanwhile, Nai was still trying to figure out if his feet were up or down.

“Oh, there’s no need for your gratitude. My husband and I have been wanting a break for a while.” She sighed as she easily cut her steak into eight even pieces. Nai could never manage that, not even with magic. “The border issues with Anais and Aurum are only getting worse each passing day.”

“I should think Anais’ strong magical force would keep other countries at bay.”

“You should think, but although Aurum lacks our magicians’ strength, their technology is leagues above ours. Nearly strong enough to match one of our magicians, in fact. Unless we can produce an ace in the hole…” She trailed off with a grave expression.

“Gre-eat,” Nai muttered, unfolding his spoon from the napkin. “Not just me, everyone’s in trouble.”

“What was that, Nai?” the Queen asked. He stiffened for a moment before shaking his head, jabbing a spoonful of soup in his mouth. It scalded his tongue but even the pain felt sweet at that moment. “Never mind our problems. How are your studies progressing?”

“Very well, actually.”

“Mistress Abiatha?” The Queen shifted her attention with a slightly coy smile. “The truth?”

“He’s right,” Abiatha said with enough surprise in her voice to glean a dirty look from him. “In both his word-based and magical education, he’s doing far better than before, effort-wise.”

“Oh, that’s true then. I’m sorry,” she said with a laugh upon seeing Nai’s disgruntled expression. “But when you’ve been slacking for as long as you’ve been doing, I’m a bit amazed to hear you’re finally putting your best foot forward. What has changed?”

“I just have more motivation now, is all.” He gave a bitter smile around his spoon that he quickly hid by biting into a bread roll. “This is good soup, Your Majesty. As always.” She chuckled softly with a bright light in her eyes.

“You flatter me, dear boy.”

“Really, it is. If only Mistress Abiatha could cook this well, but even her extensive talents stop short.” He smiled to himself as he avoided the ensuing glare.

“On the other hand, _your_ talents begin and end a very short distance from each other, Nai,” she said.

“How rude! I’m an expert magician prodigy, as you very well know, and a maid once said my singing brought her to tears!”

“You may have misunderstood her tone, saying she was brought to tears,” Abiatha smiled.

“Well, he is terribly passionate about it,” the Queen said.

“He’s _terrible_ about it.”

“You all simply can’t comprehend my skills…” As Nai glowered at their laughter and stuffed his mouth full of bread and soup, a smile tugging at the sides of his lips, the mirror and what lay beyond it was at the farthest corner of his mind. 


	10. We All Fall Down

**When** Ian opened his eyes and got a face full of Katz, he growled and rolled into the pillow. His brother, however, was not having it. 

“I know you’re awake, Ian!” He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.

“What do you _want,_ you little snot?”

“We’re going to the carnival today, remember?”

“I don’t remember anything at eight o’clock on a Saturday. Wake me up at twelve and we’ll see.”

“You’re such a—” Suddenly Katz grabbed the blanket and pulled hard, causing Ian to flop on the hard ground. “If you’re not dressed when I come back, I’ll have a bucket of ice!” he said before dropping down the trapdoor.

“Ow…” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “The carnival, today…? That means it’s been a month and a half now.” Pulling himself to his feet, he went to his dresser and grabbed a blue polo shirt and black jeans. He saw that all his hoodies were in the hamper and made the supreme sacrifice of taking the much inferior white windbreaker. He realized that he hadn’t worn these clothes since the move but couldn’t fathom why—they looked fine, and…well…

“I have the bucket!” Katz yelled. Ian groaned and stomped down the stairs to the living room. Katz was lugging a big bucket full of ice water that splashed onto the carpet with every step.

“Seriously? You know, if you’d gone up the stairs like that, you would’ve slipped and doused yourself.”

Ian pushed Katz away, taking the bucket as he went, and slogged it to the bathroom. He dumped it into the bathtub and proceeded to brush his teeth and wash his face. When he came out Mikel was standing in the open doorway smiling as Katz practically bounced off the walls with the carnival’s flyer in his hands.

“We should get the elephant ears first, I heard they’re legendary, then we go on the spinning rides and see who can go the longest without puking. Ian’ll lose for sure though. And there’ll be a Spider-Man there—see it, Dad, Spider-Man! And Batman but who cares about that creep? There’s gonna be a Ferris wheel and it says here that there’s the best view of the town from on top of it. Dad, we _have_ to ride it once.”

Funny. Ian sometimes forgot that for how much of a bugger he was, Katz was a ten-year-old kid. He took far more pleasure in cheap things like those than Ian had in years.

“Alright, alright, relax,” Mikel said with a laugh. “We’ll try everything you want once we _get there,_ okay?”

“We better!”

Mikel spotted Ian and waved him over. “Come on, let’s go before Katz has an aneurysm.”

They piled into the car and Mikel headed onto one of the few big streets in town. Apparently everyone thought the same as Ian—that the carnival was the most fun Azure Springs would have all year—and so the road was utterly packed. “This carnival’s just turned into a car-nival,” Ian said.

“What?”

“You know, because we’ll be in traffic for the next century.”

“It’s not that bad.” Mikel sighed. “Although we will be here a while.”

Ian looked back and saw Katz glaring out the window with crossed arms. _If he didn’t lug that stupid Nintendo with him, then he must really be looking forward to this,_ he thought. It didn’t feel right to leave Katz upset, so Ian did what any good big brother would and stole his baseball hat.

“Hey, give that back!” Katz jumped forward and grabbed Ian’s arm with both hands, pulling him back hard. Without wearing his seatbelt, Ian was yanked over the center console and his head smashed against Katz’s.

“What— Are you two okay?” Mikel spun around to check the two.

“Fine, Dad.” Ian was sprawled on the backseat with his legs still stuck between the center console, but even with the concussion between his eyes, he could’ve been worse.

“Ow… Why did you do that?” Katz complained, rubbing the red mark on his forehead.

“I felt like it.” He squirmed around until he managed to pull his legs in and righted himself on the seat. “Why do you still wear this stupid thing?” he said, waving the hat around.

“What, because it’s Pokémon?”

“ _No,_ because Charizard is the worst of the starters.” Ian took no small pleasure in how Katz’s face lit up at the statement.

“ _What?_ Did you go crazy? Charizard is the absolute _best,_ no question!” Ian didn’t play Pokémon, or at least not as religiously as Katz, but he could work his way through an argument all the same.

“He’s just so _overrated._ ”

“ _Are you kidding me?_ ” Now Katz really looked like he would bust a vein, and Ian was having a very hard time not laughing aloud. He then proceeded to list—and with incredible objective detail for a fifth-grade fanboy—several reasons why Charizard was the absolute best. Having lived in the real world for a suitable amount of time, Ian was very good at feigning attention, and he saw that while traffic had begun to progress again, Katz was paying it no mind, he was so into the argument.

_This kid is really freaking spoiled. He gets to go to the carnival and win an argument all in the same day._

Ian tried to console himself with thoughts of when Katz was six and practically kissed the ground he walked on. It didn’t work.

“If you two are done,” Mikel said with no small amount of amusement, “you can see the carnival from here.”

Ian and Katz looked up as they drove parallel to the carnival. He had to give the people credit, they could set up a lot in a couple of days. He could see a carousel, teacups, a top, and a bunch of booths and stands. The Ferris wheel was still being set up as Mikel pulled into the carnival’s parking lot. Katz started up again with his big grand itinerary and Mikel calmed him down. “Relax, son, we have all day.”

“Really, all day? You know, you have too many days off, Dad,” Ian said. “You sure you’re not fired?”

“Of course, I have _today_ off. Almost all the town, including the mayor, is here,” he said with a smug smile.

“Well—”

“Stop wasting time, you two!” Katz burst onto the asphalt with hands on his hips impatiently.

“Okay, _Dad._ ” Ian followed him outside and watched Katz nearly lose his mind in the time it took for Mikel to lock the car and join them. They went up to the ticket booth and Mikel bought fifty tickets for both. “What, Dad, you’re not going on any rides?”

“Nah, I think I’ll leave those to the kids.”

“Good choice,” said the ticket seller, a woman about Mikel’s age with choppy blonde hair. “After about twenty minutes all the rides’ll be caked with vomit.”

“That reminds me,” Katz said as Mikel’s face took on a greenish hue, “we’ve gotta eat the carnival food!”

“Food’s the first thing you think of after hearing that?” he muttered, shaking his head. He went over to the fried foods stand with the boys and paid for an elephant ear for Katz and a bag of zeppolas for Ian.

“It’s like Navy Pier,” Katz remarked lazily as he tried to find a good angle on the elephant ear. To be fair, it was nearly bigger than him (he was a small kid).

“Not close,” Ian countered, stuffing a zeppola into his mouth. “But…not that bad.”

The three of them sat at a nearby bench watching the passing families and excited kids, and eventually Mikel cleared his throat. “This seems as good a time as any to ask if you two like Azure Springs.” Ian and Katz exchanged a look.

“I can still call my friends back there,” Katz said. “And I made friends here too. It’s not bad. Plus, the schoolwork is _super_ easy.”

“I, uh…” Ian stuck his fingers in his mouth to suck off the powdered sugar, buying himself some time. “I, well I didn’t expect to find any interesting people here, that’s for sure. So…I can’t say it’s bad.”

“Murder house and all?”

“Okay, I was wrong about that bit. It’s a cool house. Now can we get on to the actual carnival stuff?”

“Um, yeah.” Mikel looked at the rides and again turned green. “Let’s go.”

Ian and Katz rode the Tilt-A-Whirl three times, until they stumbled off laughing and holding onto each other for balance. Then they rode the Ring of Fire until they puked behind a trailer, and Mikel shook his head as he bought them more fair food. (“If you’re just going to make yourselves throw it up, why am I wasting money here?”)

They went to explore the booths next. They tried darts, at which Ian bombed but Katz won a Totoro hat, and a basketball shoot, where Ian had his shining moment and won a plush dog half his size. They went back to ride the Tornado, Graviton, and a swinging ship with a dragon’s motif. Ian had to admit, it was a good waste of a Saturday morning.

“Let’s go on the Zipper!” Katz said, pulling his arm. Ian took one look at the ride and realized even his childishness had limits.

“Uh, yeah, I’m actually kinda hungry, so I’ll pass—”

“Chicken.”

“Says you. You’re about the right size to be a KFC drumstick.”

“Come on!” Katz dragged him towards the line. It was a little funny to get dragged along by his kid brother, but to be fair, he was lugging a giant dog too.

“I’m not getting on that thing—” Ian caught sight of something that made him grin. “And neither are you.” He pointed at the bane of Katz’s existence: the height-limit sign. Katz stared before growling with frustration. “Hey, don’t worry—if you keep growing at this rate, you’ll be able to ride in about five years.”

“Fine!” He pointed towards a mirror maze. “Let’s go there.”

“Um…sure,” he said, because he wouldn’t be able to explain a refusal without sounding completely nuts. Anyway, it wasn’t as if he’d had any supernatural events in some weeks, but just staring at the place gave him a chill. _I’ll just go in and out. If I move fast, nothing’ll have time to touch me. —Augh! Nothing’s there_ to _touch me! It’s all just in my head._

Then again, as they walked towards the ride, the bad feeling only intensified. It felt as if pins and needles were pricking all over his skin and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t until Mikel was paying the guy running it that Ian’s mind went _For the love of all that’s holy, turn and run!_

“Sorry, count me out,” Ian said, stepping back towards the stairs. “Gotta pee.”

“Weirdo,” Katz said, but Ian let it slide as he walked away from them, and as soon as he was out of sight, he ran.

_Ridiculous, I’m being ridiculous,_ he tried, but all his senses eased as soon as he put some distance between himself and the maze. He wondered if Katz and Mikel would be okay, but just as he sensed the danger, he sensed that it was only directed towards himself. After all, nobody else had gone running and screaming away from the ride.

He went to the bathroom to handle some real business, and when he came out he saw Mikel and Katz coming up from the crowd. “Hey, can we get some real food?” Ian said, cutting off whatever they were about to say.

“Ian…” Mikel stopped, then started again: “Yeah, sure.”

They bought hamburgers and fries from a food stand and finished as the sun reached the center of the sky. Ian and Katz rode the Hurricane and Flying Bobs, then messed around at some more stands, Ian winning a couple more stuffed animals and buying a pair of glow-in-the-dark shades, Katz winning a neon-green fashion boa and a plush Pokéball.

They passed by the basketball shoot again and Ian saw Les playing. “Hey, Les, don’t con these guys out of their prizes.”

“Oh, hey, Ian, Ian’s brood.” Les made another shot and the disgruntled-looking vendor gave him a Celtics cap. “You’ve seen Jessie? He said he was coming too.”

“No, no, haven’t seen him, but I’ll keep an eye out for an angry elf boy losing at every stand.”

Ian didn’t see Jessie, but he did see a lot of other kids from the eighth-grade class, although none he was above being acquaintances with. Soon they were out of tickets, and Mikel brought their attention to the setting sun. “Let’s get going, boys.”

“Whuh? C’mon, Dad, it’s cool at night,” Katz complained as he leaned into Ian on the bench, who wasn’t doing much better at holding himself upright. Mikel cracked a smile at the sight.

“You know you two are too big for me to carry now. Don’t turn into zombies yet.”

“Aww… C’mon, Katz, we gotta go,” Ian muttered, taking up his prizes in one arm and grabbing Katz’s shirt with the other. He was the real zombie there, barely able to walk on his own without stumbling all over the place. Ian pushed him from behind to get through the crowd, and when they reached the car he was stuffed in the back along with all their prizes. Ian slumped over in the passenger’s seat and tried to make sense of the carnival lights blurring in his vision.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you guys had fun,” Mikel said as he turned on the car. Ian closed his eyes for what he thought was a second, but when he opened them they were already halfway home.

_Home,_ he thought. _I’m really calling it that now. Crazy carvings and mirror and all, that place is home._

He closed his eyes again and disjointed images of the town flashed through his dreams. He woke when the car stopped in front of their house with the moon rising from the twilight sky. He rubbed his eyes and stepped onto the driveway, watching Mikel try to wake Katz. Ian unlocked the front door before grabbing his share of earnings and heading inside.

“What am I even gonna do with all this?” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s not like I play with toys anymore.”

He found a way to make them fit into the skinny stairwell and pushed them up to the trapdoor. It took some effort, but eventually he managed to get everything up with him. He looked around to find a place to stash them when he looked straight ahead.

Ian’s eyes widened and all his prizes fell to the ground. His gaze locked on the mirror, which was again bare after so long, the blanket lying charred and shredded on the ground. And, one step ahead of the glass—which looked dark like oil and rippled in the light just the same—was Nai, battered and bleeding and shaking on his feet. All thoughts of normalcy and hallucination flew out the window as both took a step forward.

“Nai?” Ian whispered. Nai blinked twice, coming out of a daze, and leaned forward slightly with urgency in his eyes.

“Ian!” he began, then descended into a rapid stream of his language that quickly died down, and with a final gasp, he pitched forward. Ian rushed forward to catch him as his eyes rolled back. He wasn’t sure what drove him forward when he felt paralyzed by shock: perhaps the need to cement Nai’s corporeality, or unwillingness to see his own face go _splat!,_ or knowing that Mikel and Katz would hear the sound and run to investigate and he would have no good explanation.

There was also the fact that seeing Nai was like welcoming back a long-lost brother. That, too, was a possibility that made Ian grimace to himself and hope that it was anything but that. It was ridiculous and sappy and downright weird, even by his standards. But he would’ve been lying if he said he felt nothing, seeing Nai at his absolute worst.

He spread his arms and let Nai collide into his chest, and hell broke loose when Ian made contact with Nai’s skin.


End file.
